


Sleeping with Spiders

by BarelyFragile



Series: October 2017 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Excessive staring at a certain blonde, Lots of Descriptions, M/M, Pre-Slash, Roommates, Spiders, because I like this world I'm working in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarelyFragile/pseuds/BarelyFragile
Summary: Harry has a plan to get back at Draco for purposefully burning up their pumpkin cauldron. If only he could stop staring at the blonde long enough to carry it out.





	Sleeping with Spiders

**Author's Note:**

> And another fic for [drarry-halloween-fest](drarry-halloween-fest.tumblr.com)'s second prompt (day 2: spiders). It's sort of a part 2 to [Sensitive to Touch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242526), but you don't need to have read it to read this one. Hope you guys enjoy!

The village of Hogsmeade was having a bit of a dreary day. Grey clouds had hung low over the villagers for most of the day, and shoppers, expecting a lovely day to slowly wander were bitterly disappointed. Chill winds rattled against the wooden buildings and anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside quickly hurried into the Three Broomsticks, seeking warmth, and regretting their lack of winter wear. A cold front had hurried into the Highlands early that same morning, and gone was the bright autumn sun that had valiantly tried to fight for its place until noonday. 

In his flat, Harry hummed quietly to himself, after casting yet another warming charm. His never lasted long, however, and a small part of him wished Draco would just return already from whatever stupid errand he’d needed to run, so he could cast the dastardly thing himself. As Draco knew full well, Harry got cranky when left to be cold for too long. 

The only thing distracting Harry from the raw weather that seeped into the room was the spiders he was carefully placing on Draco’s bed. Harry had bought over a thousand of them, black and made of cheap plastic with two red eyes (an anatomical inaccuracy Draco would be sure to point out later). He’d also asked George to teach him a quick mobility charm some months ago, which he planned to cast once Draco climbed into bed that evening. 

Once all the spiders were perfectly set up, Harry spelled them invisible, and sighed happily. He’d placed each of the spiders by hand, since he’d forgotten that he could levitate them into place, and the task had taken the better part of an hour. He cast an undetectable cushioning charm on top, slid into his own bed, and spilled out his transfiguration work. And just in time too. Draco strut in through the door of their shared flat looking pale and frozen with an imperious air hanging about him. Blood seemed to be slowly returning to his face and fingers as the blonde boy slid out of his posh robes and sniffed delicately at the stale air, a slight sneer marring his features as the unmistakable scent of too old alcohol made itself known.

Harry, for his part, mostly managed to ignore the less than ideal state of their temporary living quarters. The castle was full to the brim with both new and returning students. Students who’d been held back from school in their fifth, sixth, and seventh years were back to complete their magical education. Of course, all the students from the last year Hogwarts had been open had to redo their previous year, as the presence of Death Eaters torturing people was not at all conducive to learning. There were the extra first years who made up a spectacularly large class size, due to the extra year Hogwarts had been closed for repairs. And of course, there were the transfer students who’d come for a chance to study with Harry Potter. He knew that Headmistress McGonagall was struggling with the new influx of students, and Hogwarts somehow had to manage nearly twice as many students as she’d had in previous years. New professors had been hastily hired, and the houses expanded to include many nearby rooms to fit all the students. 

When a handful of so-called “eight years” had announced their intent to return, McGonagall had both severely and sadly told them about the issue, and asked if they could find living arrangements in the nearby village. He’d considered himself lucky that Aberforth had agreed to house Draco, as the Three Broomsticks had flat out refused, as had many other housing establishments nearby, even if it meant turning away Harry Potter himself. Of course, Aberforth’s going rate was atrocious, but between his own inheritance and Draco’s family money, it hardly made a dent.

The more unfortunate aspect of their situation was how dreadful the rooms in the Hogs Head actually were. Harry and Draco had both set about cleaning and redecorating for a week before Draco had deemed the place livable. Even now, they had to clean up after themselves at least weekly, as there were no house elves to look after them (much to Hermione’s delight and everyone else’s disdain), or the inn itself seemed to leech into their rooms.

Draco greeted Harry with a simple “good evening” and set about getting dressed for bed. “Cold days were for lazing about and cuddles,” Draco often observed in moments of deep introspection, though of course the pale boy would never admit to enjoying physical touch.

“Where did you go?” ventured Harry, realizing the blonde had never actually told him before hurrying out the door earlier that day. He’d set several paper bags, bursting at the sides and overflowing with what looked to be various colorful potions, on his bed, and Harry had breathed out an anxious sigh when his cushioning charm had gone unnoticed. 

“I needed to buy some love potions,” Draco answered after a moment. He stuck a white and green toothbrush into his mouth, a habit he’d picked up from Harry. Apparently, dental cleansing charms just did not feel the same.

“What for?” Since his sixth year, Harry had become extremely wary of love potions. He didn’t think Draco was planning to slip him one (that would be ridiculous, he thought quietly to himself), but there was a chance that one of the more ambitious and eager students would get their hands on it and try to manipulate him. 

“We’re studying love potions this weekend,” responded the blonde, though his voice was heavily muffled by the toothbrush currently working its way over his teeth. Harry felt confused for a moment, before he remembered that Draco was also in a special potions class for being one of four students to pass the potions N.E.W.T.s (the others being Hermione, of course; a transfer student from Beauxbatons that Harry didn’t know and didn’t like; and, oddly enough, Luna). They received small research assignments every weekend or so, and Draco was often found tinkering with his latest project. It drove Harry mad, mostly because being friends with Hermione and living with Hermione 2.0 during the school year were two completely different things. 

Harry nodded at Draco’s explanation, and went back to his transfiguration work. He had another foot and a half to add to his essay before he’d reach the minimum length of six feet, not including footnotes and references. He wondered, sadly, why writing essays longer than he was tall was necessary, though he didn’t dare go to Hermione for help. He worked away at it, silently and furiously, ignoring the conspicuous paper bags on Draco’s bed as the blonde carefully unpacked each potion and set it on his shelves. Who needed thirty different love potions for a small project?

It was as Harry was putting the finishing touches on his essay that Draco walked back into their room wearing nothing but light grey boxer briefs and gently toweling his water-darkened hair dry. Harry watched out the corner of eyes as Draco threw his dirty clothes into the hamper, and watched the occasional trickle of water making its way down the blonde’s smooth, pale back as he bent over to pick a book from his shelves. Harry subconsciously ran his tongue along his bottom lip before biting into it hard while trying to return his focus to his work. He knew both Hermione and Draco, who would both look over his essay later, would have his head if he somehow managed to screw up his essay at the end. 

He was able to concentrate for another few hours, had even managed to get started on both his charms and herbology work before the darkness outside seeped into the room, and even the candles seemed to provide only feeble light. The wind knocking against the windows had only picked up through the day, and Harry swore it sounded like a woman moaning in pain outside. He realized he’d been steadily staring at his roommate for a good long while as he listened to the wind whistling between the buildings and through the nearby woods when Draco clapped his book shut, and stretched his arms sinuously above his head. The motion brought his ribcage into the dim candlelight and Harry’s eyes traced bumps of the scars on Draco’s pale torso, and the black ink that stretched over the flesh in an elegant design with chained wings. 

Harry swallowed heavily. He could feel his heart pound against his chest, hear it as a rush in his ears. His throat felt dry and he wondered why he’d ever bothered to tell Draco about muggle tattoos in the first place. Draco had gotten ten of them, was probably planning more, and had charmed them to appear when called upon. The wings etched across his chest were Harry’s favorite, which Draco had somehow found out. 

Draco cleared his throat audibly, pulling Harry out of his thoughts to meet grey eyes smirking at him with smug delight. Harry felt himself flush, as red as he’d ever seen Ron, and wondered what had gotten into him recently. He ignored the laughter that had returned to Draco’s eyes, and set about putting his work away for the night. As restless as he felt, he knew Ron and Hermione would be busy with each other, and he didn’t know the other returning eighth years well enough to spend the evening in their company by himself. The best he could do now was turn into his bed and wait for Draco to lie down as well.

A quick tempus charm showed that it was nearing midnight, and Draco, thankfully, fell into his bed with a quiet “good night” at Harry. And Harry waited, lying still and breathing evenly, trying to pass himself off as asleep so Draco would relax. Flustered and confused though Harry might be by the blonde, he would not pass up this chance to get revenge for the pumpkin incident of the day before. Damn Draco for making a fool of him in front of Basu.

As the hour grew ever later, the blonde’s breathing evened out, and, once he was sure Draco was truly asleep, Harry cast the mobility charm he’d been practicing, and immediately removed the cushioning charm he’d placed on top of the spiders. Draco continued to slumber on, twitching his shoulder in subconscious irritation. Harry could see the dents made by the spiders as they started moving around the bed, and canceled the invisibility spell he’d cast earlier. He wanted Draco to be able to see them in the shadows. 

For many minutes, nothing happened as the spiders crawled around. Some had started climbing up Draco’s legs, some were scattered across his now tattoo-free torso, and one brave one sat atom his pointed (and well-formed, a part of Harry’s mind added) nose. Then, all of a sudden, Draco arose with a quiet shriek. He blinked confusedly at the spiders all over his bed before jumping out with a grunt, wand in hand, and looking furious. Harry’s heart pounded against his ribcage as he watched the lean muscles of Draco’s barely-there abs work heavily as Draco breathed aloud. A quick but bright flash, and all the spiders immediately turned to soot, which Draco neatly swept into the dustbin with a neat sweep of his wand. 

He turned over to glare at Harry, who grinned back cheekily in the darkness. “Why?” he asked, sounding dramatically betrayed.

“For the cauldron,” responded Harry, before turning his back to the blonde. He knew Draco would not take his revenge tonight, and knew he had to prepare himself for it, but the restlessness he’d been feeling all day abruptly left his body, leaving him with a languid and liquid feeling in his muscles. He yawned widely to himself.

Behind him, Harry could hear Draco slowly slip back into bed. For several minutes, as Harry grew more and more drowsy, he could hear the blonde twist and turn and sigh and murmur to himself. The sounds only brought a smile to his face as he started to drift off. 

He was brought back momentarily to awareness when he felt his bed dip behind him, a loud creak echoing through the room. Harry felt warmth permeate into his bones as the blonde settled in awkwardly beside him. The bed was only a double, and thus provided barely enough space for the two of them. 

“You okay?” asked Harry, trying to sound smug, but losing his words to another wide yawn. 

There was a moment of silence before Draco mumbled something about “stupid spiders” and “stupid Potter”. Harry felt his arm press lightly against his upper back, so he pushed into the heat source. It was, after all, quite cold outside. Besides, the two of them hadn’t slept next to each other in almost a week. It couldn’t hurt to do it now. 

Harry hummed his response, feeling even more drowsy than he had a moment before, and deliciously and comfortably warm and safe. As he drifted off, a part of Harry wondered if he hadn’t set up the prank to bring Draco back to his bed after all.

**Author's Note:**

> As these are being written and posted every day, they're unbetaed. I'd really appreciate if you have any comments on how to improve though, so talk to me here or on [my tumblr](barelyfragile.tumblr.com)!


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